Prison Break
by leaking-fountainpen
Summary: They were prisoners in their own circumstances, they had no control on their lives and no hope. All was dark and they were alone. In their loneliness, they found each other and it set them free. (Storybrooke AU. No magic. Please read the trigger warnings mentioned inside.)
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Prison Break**

**Show: Once Upon A Time**

**Rating: M**

**Summary: They were prisoners in their own circumstances, they had no control on their lives and no hope. All was dark and they were alone. In their loneliness, they found each other and it set them free. **

**Trigger Warning: Mentions of abuse, molestation, rape, depression, anxiety disorder. This is a dark story and will probably be so for many chapters. Also, femslash.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon A Time or any of the characters from the show or fairytales. I have tweaked the storyline of OUAT for creative purposes. I do not stand to profit in any way from this piece of fanfiction. No infringement of copyright is intended. **

**Any mistake that might have crept in, even after diligent editing, is mine and mine alone.**

**A/N: Hello friends! This is my first fanfiction for Once Upon A Time. I have written fanfiction for a couple of other TV shows before but it has been a few years since I wrote my last story. I'll need some time to ease back into writing and I hope you'll help me in my journey by reading the story and providing me with constructive criticism. Anything but rudeness is welcome. Before you start reading the story, please be aware that this is going to be slow and will contain a lot of character exploration and their inner musings. The build up to any and all relationships in the story will take time because that's how it happens in real life. Please heed the trigger warnings. This is an AU story with no magic or fairytale. I'm a SwanQueen shipper and SwanQueen is the endgame but other relationships will be explored as well, even if they do not last.**

** I hope you enjoy!**

"Emma!"

The single word was yelled from downstairs with so much force that the blonde girl was shaken to her core.

The word, in itself, was harmless. In fact, it was her mere name. In spite of the fact, even a deaf person could not deny the venom that dripped off the two syllables.

The girl sighed. By now, she should have been well accustomed to the drama that was surely about to follow. As she pulled on a worn out T-shirt over her head and shivered slightly in her ill heated closet of a room, she wondered vaguely what it was that had set off her foul tempered foster-mother this morning.

"Emma, come down. Right now!"

There wasn't so much urgency in the woman's voice, only a demand. Emma knew exactly what it was - she had seen it before. Each day in her new foster home would start with an unnecessary display of power. Her foster-mother loved to make it clear every morning that she was the one in charge. She would never let Emma forget how she was doing her and the state a favour by "fostering" care to a girl whom her own parents had abandoned, that the cheque that she received from the state was only a pittance in comparison to the grief that she endured by bringing up an unwanted being. In short, the woman never forgot to remind Emma every single day of the feelings that were so deeply etched in her bones that the orphaned teenager would never forget them even if she tried - that she was a nuisance, a burden, a liability. She would carefully remind the girl what she would never forget even for a moment although she wanted to - that she was unloved.

She stared at herself in the small mirror and shook her head, as if to shake off her thoughts physically. There was no point delving into unanswered questions - complex questions that had plagued the sixteen years of her life, questions that would probably haunt her for the rest of her life.

_Why didn't her parents want her?_

She hastily put on a jacket over her ratty T-shirt and jeans. It would be unwise to keep her angry guardian waiting any further. She carelessly pulled her mane of golden locks back into a pony tail and put on her dark rimmed glasses. For a final second, she blinked into the mirror.

A pair of familiar emerald eyes, that were her own, blinked back.

She steeled herself with a deep breath and came out of her room. She hurried down the stairs as fast as she could, knowing better than to try to delay the inevitable showdown.

"Where the hell have you been? I've been busting my voice for God knows how long!"

She ignored the whine of her guardian and took in the sight of her instead. The woman, who was well into her late forties, had abysmally unruly jet black hair that were all over her shoulders. Her eyes were hazy and dull. Her skin was wrinkled and not the good kind that one gets with prolonged laughter. Her skin was pale and yellowish, betraying her habits of chronic alcoholism. She must have meant to place her hands firmly on her hips to assume an intimidating posture. Unfortunately, her hands shook and she failed miserably, appearing pathetic instead.

Emma pursed her lips into a thin line and tipped her head in what she considered to be an apologetic gesture. It didn't have an effect on the angry woman though.

"God knows why I put up with your kind... Your parents are wiser than I am." She opened her arms and shrugged her shoulders, looking up at the ceiling in grand theatrics.

When Emma had been a child, harsh words such as these would hurt her, would bring tears in her eyes. Not anymore. At sixteen, she found that she was gradually losing her capabilities of feeling... in fact, these days she felt anything rarely. The only emotions that were her constant companion were irritation and anger. White hot anger. She barely remembered the last time she ever felt anything else.

Her childhood counsellor had called it "despair". The psychologist in her new school called it "depression".

Why did it matter what label fit her lack of emotions the most? Nobody cared. Nobody gave a bloody damn. What she knew but would never admit to anyone was a simple fact.

Emma Swan had given up hope.

* * *

"Alright class, please open your books to page number 55," the woman with pixie cut hair chimed sweetly to the room full of students.

Usually, Emma found anyone with saccharine sweetness disgusting. It was false more often than not, intended to mask the harshness of words. Sweetness was an adulteration added to the poison called human conversation to mask blows, so that the speaker could pretend that they had not just shredded the listener's heart. Soft tones were invented so that people could keep up the false pretense that all was well with the world.

Emma hated everything fake. She wasn't a skilled orator. In fact, she was quite the opposite. She rarely had anything to say. In her defense, she rarely had anyone to hear what she had to say, so she never had the occasion to speak out. Whenever she opened her mouth, words seemed to desert her.

Words were not the only ones to desert Emma and she bore no grudge. She never attempted for eloquence. She would often speak in short sentences and used practical words, words that would convey whatever she had to say in the least duration of time. She had figured out quite early on that people seldom had patience to listen to her... and over time, she had run out of things to say too. So she was always economical with words and she delivered them in the bluntest way possible. Her straight forward demeanor hardly made her popular but at least she knew that she never left room for misunderstandings. She wouldn't smile unnecessarily at an acquaintance so that she could be called a slut later. People often thought she overreacted but what did they know? They made the rules of the society but they were the ones to break the rules too. She hated fake people with passion, which was why she hated everyone with a pseudo-sweet personality and an insincere smile.

It was also why she didn't hate Miss. Blanchard.

On her first day at her new school, Emma had been miserable. She never had friends in the truest sense of the word but the lack of known faces had poked and prodded her anxiety disorder to the point where it threatened to burst into a full-blown panic attack. Unfortunately, she was in the worst of her moods when she met her English teacher and Mary Margaret Blanchard virtually grated on her nerves with her incessant zeal to make her feel comfortable. She had wanted nothing more than to stuff into her teacher's mouth something soft and fluffy - like a pillow.

As time passed on, Emma realized that she was mistaken. Mary Margaret was annoying, irritating... Hell, she was a lot of things. Fake was not one of them. Her English teacher was a rare species of human being - kind and compassionate. She did have her own quirks, she often talked to the bluebirds that chirped on the bird house outside the classroom window and pretended that the creatures talked backed to her. If anyone asked Emma what she thought of the woman entrusted with part of her education, she would probably shrug and say that she was nuts.

But Mary Margaret Blanchard cared. She cared about her students. And in spite of her initial misgivings, over the past five months, Emma had come to accept that as unbelievable as it was, Miss Blanchard seemed to care for her too.

Presently, Emma was shaken out of reverie by the said woman's voice calling out her name.

"Emma, are you on Page 55 yet?"

The teenager hastily turned the pages of her book so that she could join the rest of the class. She didn't care about the rest of her classmates but she had to admit that she was actually beginning to like her English lessons.

"Uh, yeah..." she stammered at her teacher who was looking at her expectantly.

The rest of the class stared at her too, as if in anticipation of something interesting.

_Stop staring at me like I'm a friggin' circus._

She set her jaws tightly together. She wouldn't offer them any entertainment today.

Or maybe she would.

Her book, which was a used one, borrowed from the library, didn't have a page 55.

_Great._

"Uh... sorry. It doesn't have a page 55," she gestured towards her book awkwardly.

Understanding dawned in Miss. Blanchard's eyes immediately and she nodded sympathetically. Emma didn't know if she would prefer anger over the blatant display of pity.

"So sorry Emma, I asked Belle to select a book in better condition... Perhaps she overlooked. Anyway, I'll ask her to hook you up with a new one."

Emma gave a non committal shrug as the snickering students behind her drew her attention.

"I can hook up with her anytime she wants."

Emma recognized his voice instantly. She sighed. Trust Jones to make a sexual innuendo over their teacher's rather unfortunate choice of words. But what better could she expect from a guy who wore eyeliner to class?

"Killian, please refrain from vulgarity in my class. Apologize to Emma right now."

Emma would never understand how the lady managed to pack sweetness and authority in her voice at the same time but she could and damn, when she spoke out orders, people obeyed.

Killian Jones grudgingly walked up to Emma's desk as the girl had refused to turn back and look at him. He stood beside her seat and peered down from in between the upturned collars of his dark leather jacket.

"Sorry, Swan."

The experience of bouncing from one foster home to another over the years had taught Emma to identify lies from truth, to differentiate insincerity from heartfelt emotions. It was such a second nature to Emma to distinguish falsities that she didn't even have to put in an effort anymore. She liked to think it was her superpower. Some flew, some climbed walls, some read people's minds... well, she detected lies as soon as she heard them.

Currently, her skin crawled upon hearing Killian's apologies for she could hear not only his words but also the smugness and the macho pretentiousness that coloured his voice.

"Yeah, okay," she shrugged even as anger flared inside her and she wanted nothing more than to punch the living lights out of the arrogant bastard. She took in a deep breath instead, for the umpteenth time of the day, reminding herself that she didn't want to be a friggin' circus in the class, that she didn't want to disappoint Mary Margaret and that she really didn't want to end up being kicked out of Storybrooke High in five months flat.

"Good, now that it is settled, Killian go back to your seat. Ruby, would you be kind enough to pass your book to Emma?"

Ruby Lucas smirked at the hapless girl before passing her book over to her desk.

Ruby was a puzzle that Emma barely understood. She was an older girl at 18 years of age, still stuck in a class where an average student was aged sixteen. She often bore the brunt of collective jokes for the same reason but she hardly seemed to care. But that wasn't the only reason why she stood out from the rest. Nobody could deny that the girl had style. She was way too goth for Emma's tastes and wouldn't probably be seen dead in colours other than black and red. The girl had streaks of red in her jet black hair and often painted her plump lips in a bright shade of red, much to the dismay of school authorities. The length of her skirts and tightness of her tops were a point of concern to the teachers, a topic of gossip for the girls and a pleasure to the eyes for the guys. Her appearance always screamed for attention and damn, did they pay attention to her.

However, it was not her appearance that puzzled Emma. It was her personality. Although her dress sense was rather unorthodox for a typical school girl, her attitude was totally devoid of the vile meanness that was so common among high school students. Ruby didn't have too many friends, she didn't seem to crave for friendship either. She was sort of a loner with a generic friendliness. People at school seemed to know very little about her except that she had no parents and lived with her grandmother who ran the only town diner. When not at school, she could be seen waiting tables in the family establishment, wearing scanty clothes, bold make up and an indifferent smirk.

Emma had struck up an unlikely kinship with Ruby over the past few months. She knew very little about the older girl's past and learnt quickly not to ask questions about it either. They occasionally stole a smoke at the farthest corners of the school ground. The goth did have a raunchy sense of humor which would be often accentuated by puffs of weed. Also, despite being willfully isolated from the main stream, she was somehow privy to the deepest, darkest secrets of most people in the town. Emma figured that learning a person's innermost information was quite easy for a waiter with sharp ears and photographic memory in the only diner in town. They hung out at times at the playground after school hours. Sometimes, they even bunked school to explore the lush forests that surrounded the quaint town. Emma had noticed early on that Ruby knew the lay of the land like the back of her hand and with her, the younger girl could safely venture deep into the woods without the fear of getting lost. She also knew that despite Ruby's penchant for phony appearance, she was true at heart and could be trusted. Ruby could be loyal with the ferocity of a dog. She wouldn't leave Emma in danger, she had proved that plenty of times. Ruby's love for spoken language was better than Emma's but she didn't mind the grumpy silence of the new kid on the block. For some weird reason, the lack of words between the two girls never turned stifling for either of them. In fact, it had a calming effect on both of their minds. Neither begrudged the companionable silence that stretched between them when they chilled out together. Ruby never felt the need to explain herself or be someone else when she was with Emma. Similarly, Emma never felt the familiar prick of social anxiety or the fear of rejection when they spent time together.

If Emma were capable of uninhibited friendship, she was certain that Ruby would be her best friend. But life had moulded Emma otherwise and when she felt the beginning of a relationship with anyone, she ran. What chance did friendship have between a lone wolf and a weary runner? _None. _Or so she thought.

* * *

The students filed out of the classroom in an inexplicable hurry as soon as the bell rang, signalling lunch break. Mary Margaret tried to slow them down with gentle words of caution but as always, they fell on deaf ears.

Emma remained seated though, not too keen to join the jostling stream of her classmates. She turned her head to the side and found Ruby doing the same. She rolled her eyes when she saw the older girl smirking at her with a knowing look on her face.

When the last of the other students had left the room, they got up and made way towards the exit too, unwilling to invite the subtle prodding of their sometimes overbearing teacher.

"Emma," Miss. Blanchard called after her and Emma consciously fought to stifle the groan threatening to escape her throat. She knew that the woman meant well and didn't want to offend her.

"Yeah?"

Mary Margaret sighed. She disliked when her students gave her one word answers but she was well aware of the new student's issues and knew better than to push. Emma Swan had inherent trouble in opening up and her lack of words was indicative of how closed off she was. She would give her student as much time as she needed to open up and until then, all she could do was wait. She had hope and she would not give up on any of her students.

"Please remember to contact Belle after lunch break about your book. I'll tell her to arrange a different copy, one with preferably intact pages. She'll see if she has another one. Is it alright?"

"Yeah... 'kay, thanks." Emma nodded and after briefly making sure that her teacher was finished with her, she left. She felt slightly bitter when she realized that due to her annoying habit of taking notes on the pages of the books themselves, she would now have to transfer all of her notes to the new copy of book, if they managed to find one.

At least her teachers in this school are trying to help her with books and other school supplies, which was more than what her earlier school experience entailed.

It was all about the silver linings and all that crap Dr. Hopper keeps droning about during their weekly sessions, right?

She walked out and saw Ruby lurking around the classroom in the now deserted corridor. In spite of knowing better, she waited for a second for a verbal jab to emerge from her companion. When none came, her shoulders sagged imperceptibly in relief and they fell into a comfortable silence as they marched out of the hall.

Instead of heading towards the lunch tables where all the 'cool kids' sat, they walked outside and chose a bench instead. Winter was gone but the air still retained its frosty bite, resulting in almost empty school grounds. To the duo, it was a relief.

Ruby brought out two paper bags out of her backpack and tossed one to the other girl who caught it deftly. Within seconds, each bit into her lunch; Ruby into a turkey sandwich and Emma into a hamburger.

It was a ritual of sorts that started one day when Ruby realized that Emma never had enough money to buy anything wholesome for lunch and that she was too proud to let it show. She had insisted that she wasn't hungry but her skeletal frame and bony wrists told a different story. So, Ruby asked her grandmother to pack an extra sandwich. Granny, despite her steely exteriors, was a softie inside. The old lady didn't enquire into the matter twice, bless her. It had turned ugly on the first day, when Emma was furious for the unsolicited help that she regarded as pity and ignored Ruby for two days straight. On the third day however, the kid's hunger defeated her pride when the smell of Granny's special hamburger, complete with pickles and fresh tomatoes wafted into her nostrils. To make her happy, Ruby had even asked Emma to help her with her homework in return.

It wasn't that Ruby was dumb. She was perfectly capable of doing her own homework, even though Emma's help would certainly make it easier. But more than anything, she wanted Emma to be able to do something in return, something that wouldn't make the fiercely independent girl have to choose between her hunger and her pride. She didn't need to strike up a heart-to-heart conversation to know that the girl had been through rough circumstances. While she didn't know the details, she knew a lot about Judith, the girl's current foster-mother. Ruby always thought that she wasn't really doing Emma a favour. She did what any friend would do but she knew the girl well enough so as not to utter the word "friend" in front of her. She did not want Emma to bolt. She wanted her by her side and well fed. If that meant she had to offer Emma a "work for food" situation, she would.

The young blond, true to her skeptic nature, was apprehensive at first. She waited and waited but her "bullshit detector" as she so fondly called it, never pinged. Gradually, she accepted that Ruby was yet another anomaly in her life, like Mary Margaret, only less suffocating.

Over the next few months, the two girls had fallen into this routine and none of them questioned it anymore. Ruby was satisfied that her friend got to eat and Emma knew she would repay for the food by sort of tutoring her over the weekend.

Their silence was broken by an utterly unladylike snort from Ruby that earned her a glance from her companion. She said nothing though, only shrugged.

"What?" came the muffled question, as Emma continued to chew on her hamburger deliberately. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Nothing," Ruby replied, a smirk still painting her bright red lips.

"Obviously not nothing," the blonde poked her elbow into the other girl's ribs slightly. "Spit it out!"

"You have a new admirer." Ruby was aware that she was being cryptic but she knew Emma Swan hated suspense and she was enjoying herself at the poor girl's expense.

Emma tried to play it cool. "Yeah, right!" She leaned back into the bench, finishing off the last of her burger. She wiped her fingers with the paper bag, rolled it into a ball and aimed it into the nearest trash can. It completely missed its target. She made no attempt to get up and pick up the trash though.

Ruby snorted again when Emma tried to discretely look around, trying to spot her alleged admirer. "He isn't here."

Emma slumped back into her spot on the bench and crinkled her nose as soon as a thought hit her. "You're not talking about Jones, are you?"

Ruby crumpled her own empty paper bag into a neat ball which landed perfectly into the bin with one flick of her shapely wrist. She pumped her fist in air triumphantly and smiled broadly at Emma, who was looking at her antics with vague amusement.

"Slam dunk! And no."

"Then who?"

"Eager, are we?" Ruby loved teasing Emma Swan.

"Shut up." Emma scooted forward to face away from her, trying to hide her expressions. Yes, Ruby definitely loved teasing Emma Swan.

"Neal." She replied quietly and looked carefully for Emma's reaction.

"Neal Cassidy?" Emma didn't try to keep the scoff off her voice.

"Yeah. Like him?"

"Are you crazy?" Emma seemed so horrified by the idea of being the subject of Neal Cassidy's admiration, that it was borderline comical.

"Why? He's handsome, has puppy dog eyes, curly hair and a winning smile. I bet he'll look good once he grows a good scruff on his damn cheeks. He's nice too, makes girls swoon. He's quite the guy, if you ask me," Ruby winked at the frowning pale girl sitting beside her.

"No one's asking you," Emma muttered before looking vacantly ahead in quiet contemplation.

Now that Ruby mentioned it, she did remember Neal behaving more... oddly, more like a wannabe gentleman with her than ever before. She wasn't sure if he was practicing to be a charmer in general or if he was trying to charm her pants off but she knew enough to know that more often than not, Ruby was right. It could be because of her age, her maturity or her instinct, but Ruby could spot budding attraction between people from miles away and she was never wrong. She sometimes joked that she could smell people's pheromones and on plenty of occasions, Emma couldn't help but wonder if she indeed could.

Ruby seemed quite sure that Neal was interested in Emma... which made Neal a problem. Or did it?

Emma had never been loved. She had never been cared for. But more than once in the past, she had been showered with attention... with lingering gazes, with a gentle brush or two of hands. As she grew older and started her journey into womanhood, the hands grew bolder, the gazes more lustful. Touches lost their innocence and were unwelcome. At first, she had felt exhilarated with the attention. A young unloved girl craving for a bit of importance in life had no idea how bitter the attention could turn and how quickly. More than once, leering old men supposed to be her foster fathers had often had lingering hands on her, on her exposed milky skin of arms, of legs and had sometimes ridden higher to steal a caress of the forbidden skin where no man should lay hands upon their daughter. Sometimes, rough hands had accidentally yet painfully brushed against the gentle swell of her soft breasts or the curves of her hips. More than once she had been forced to sit on the thin boxer clad laps of large, burly men claiming to show her fatherly or brotherly affection. She had felt the hardness of the male organ against her hand at the age of ten, inside her mouth at the age of twelve and painfully inside her at the age of thirteen. She had felt all the masculine "affection" that had been showered upon her to the point where she had been forced to run away from her foster homes. It's not that she hadn't been given a choice, a choice between gratefully accepting the "loving" attention of her male family members and loathing of her foster mothers and insubordination, that led to frequent belting, hunger and possible violation that was far more painful. Young and confused, she always thought these were the only two choices she had... that families always expressed their love in this way and that something was wrong with her that her skin crawled at their affection. It was later when she was fourteen that she realized in a sex education class at her school what was truly happening to her. She loathed herself for believing others, she hated her families and even more, she learned at a great cost that no one, absolutely no one, did a favour without a purpose. A trip to Disneyland had always to be repaid with a blowjob, a new dress had always to be thanked for with "entertaining" a much older foster-brother.

All the magic in life came with a price.

Emma wasn't sure if she disliked men or human beings in general. She wasn't treated that much differently by her foster mothers either. Besides, she had met a few good men too, like Dr. Hopper, her shrink or David Nolan, their games teacher and Miss Blanchard's fiancé. After much deliberation, she decided that while she was definitely at a higher risk of physical harm from men than women, she had been equally exploited and abused by human beings, irrespective of gender.

She determined his gender had nothing to do with the growing alarm that Neal's behaviour had sparked within Emma. It was entirely something else.

Emma didn't think she was capable of feeling anything at all... for Neal or for anyone.

Sixteen years of harsh conditions had drained all humanity off her, Emma thought. She was tired and worn out. She didn't hope for magic in her life. _After all, all_ _magic came with a price._ She only wanted to keep her head down, finish high school, get out of foster care, get a job somewhere, attend college if possible.

The only thing she would find unacceptable was to find herself at the mercy of another person for any reason at any point of time in the rest of her life. She needed a clear head to get out of this hell hole.

So yes, Neal was definitely going to be a problem.

The shrill ring of the bell reminded her that they had to head back in class. Ruby and Emma shared most of their classes together. They had a study period, followed by games before they would be done for the day.

And oh... she had to talk to the librarian, Miss. French for that new copy of book.

"Heading to the library, right?" Ruby asked, feigning nonchalance.

Emma almost laughed. She never told Ruby how she had noticed that her companion had developed a nice little crush on the librarian.

Belle French was fresh out of school, just past the threshold of adulthood and a natural beauty. With round face framed with wavy brown hair, blue doe eyes and an exotic accent and a petite figure, Emma could surely see why Ruby could be besotted with her. Besides, although Belle had graduated high school and taken up the job before Emma had come to town, she had done quick calculation and figured that Ruby and Belle must have been in the same class before Ruby lost a couple of years for some reason. They must have been classmates. Maybe they were good friends even. Emma tried to visualize how it must have felt for Ruby to be left behind, she even idly wondered what could have happened before shaking herself out of it. It was none of her business.

Emma decided that she would indulge the lovelorn brunette. "Yeah, I'll head to the library. Wanna come?"

Ruby shrugged once again in fake indifference. "If you need me... yeah."

Emma surely didn't need Ruby to go with her anywhere, least of all to the library but she wasn't about to spoil her chance to meet her crush. After everything she had done for Emma, it was the least she could do for the older girl.

"Okay, let's go."

* * *

Belle French apologized to Emma so profusely that the student began to suspect if the librarian had forgotten that she herself was no more a student of this school and instead held a position of authority. Or perhaps, she was one of the infuriating polite people who Storybrooke seemed to have in abundance. Emma sighed wistfully.

_Who knew?_

Ruby pretended to check out the books in the new arrivals section with an interest so fake that Emma had to stifle a laughter. Belle seemed oblivious to it all.

"I never knew you were interested in ancient history of fairy tales," Belle called out appreciatively when she noticed the book that Ruby held.

"Huh? Yeah... yeah..." Ruby stammered, taking in only then the book that she was holding.

Emma chuckled and shrugged at Belle, "She's not much of a talker. But she's a nice person... And she's interested in books... and librarians." She added the last part just to see Ruby squirm and it earned her a well justified kick to the shin around the table.

If Belle noticed this exchange, she didn't show. Instead she smiled sweetly at Ruby. "That's wonderful, Ruby! Books are the essence of our lives. They enrich us and make us better. We not only learn new things, we live lives through books, lives that we would never have the chance of living otherwise."

Ruby stood mesmerized, drinking in every word that left Belle's lips, as if the young librarian was imparting life altering wisdom.

Time flew by after that and by the time they left the library at the end of the period, Ruby was positively vibrating with enthusiasm. Emma rolled her eyes but couldn't help but enjoy what she was witnessing.

"Let's cut the games," Ruby suggested.

Emma couldn't care less. Also, Mr. Nolan was too laid back to bother them about it later. "What do you wanna do?"

"Wanna go for a stroll? No rain, woods should be fine." Ruby sniffed the air around in a fashion that reminded Emma of a mutt.

"Yeah but Judith expects me home by six."

"Fuck Judith," Ruby growled and then quieted down when Emma threw her a pointed look. "Sorry, yeah, no mention of your guardian and fucking in the same sentence. Sorry."

Emma smirked and in an uncharacteristic gesture, took hold of Ruby's hand and walked off towards the woods, with the goth in tow.

There was something in the air of Storybrooke, in the quaint little town, that made Emma feel a little better; something that sparked a little hope in her hopeless soul. This afternoon, she wanted to savour it.

Judith and her hellfire could wait.


	2. Chapter 2

"What _is _this place?" Emma breathed out as she stared ahead and took in the beauty.

Ruby quietly lit a smoke before plopping down on a log nearby. Emma dropped down beside her and accepted the burning cigarette between her fingers for a drag.

Ruby held in the smoke within her lungs for moments, savouring the nicotine, before slowly exhaling. "This is the easternmost edge of the woods."

"I figured that," the younger girl replied, jerking her head towards the red setting sun softly caressing the trees behind them. "I wanna know what _that _is." She pointed her fingers at the plain green fields lying vastly ahead of where they stood on the higher uneven forest grounds, hidden by trees.

"That's the stable grounds."

"Storybrooke has a stable? You never told me before!" Emma's eyebrows had almost risen into her hairline.

"I'm showing you now," Ruby shrugged.

"Smartass," Emma muttered but her voice held no sting.

Her companion nudged her ribs with her elbow. "Hey, I heard that!" After a few moments of brief silence again, she spoke, "Have you ever riden a horse?"

"No," the blonde replied wistfully. Ruby glanced at her and thought she could detect faint glistening in her emerald eyes. But Emma kept staring straight ahead through her thick rimmed glasses, so she couldn't be sure. "Have you?"

"No."

Neither of the girls were good with expressing emotions, so they dropped the subject altogether.

They continued to smoke, passing on the burning nicotine stick to each other in turns. After a brief silence, Ruby spoke again, "This is the property of the Mayor."

"Oh!" Emma mulled over the new information for sometime. "Cora Mills fancies horses?"

Ruby let out a humorless snort. "Cora Mills doesn't fancy anything but money and power. Her husband on the other hand thrives on those beasts... Their daughter used to love horses too!"

"Their daughter... Regina, right?" Emma waited for a moment for the affirmative nod. "Rich girls!" she mused.

Ruby turned her head and looked at Emma strangely. There was something in that look that thoroughly unsettled her.

"You know what they say, Em. Don't judge a book by its cover."

Emma cleared her throat uncomfortably, suddenly torn between wanting to know more about the Mayor's daughter and wishing to drop the subject. She awkwardly stubbed the burnt cigarette on a rock at their feet and kept staring at the ash instead.

It was almost early evening and the wind that played with their hair and clothes was turning cold. Still, neither of them budged from their spots.

They could see the stables at the far end of the grounds. The lights inside had already been lit, even as the vestiges of the sun still melted in the sky. One or two stable hands could be seen walking in and out occasionally, going about their daily chores.

"I haven't seen Regina Mills much." That was an overstatement. Emma had never seen Regina in person. Once or twice, she had caught a glimpse of the woman's face while her black Mercedes Benz sped past them along Storybrooke's streets.

"Yeah, she doesn't get out much these days."

_These days. _Emma could sense that Ruby was not saying something to her but the older girl's dismissive tone firmly indicated that the topic of Regina Mills was not up for discussion.

Emma herself wanted to steer clear of any topic that her usually friendly companion uncharacteristically clammed up about but she couldn't stop wondering about the mysterious woman who was the Mayor's daughter and whom the town hardly saw other than at political events. From the one glimpse or two that she had managed in the past, she knew Regina Mills looked perfect with her mocha skin and well sculpted face, with hints of biracial heritage and Hispanic genes thrown in somewhere. Her hair was fabulous, as would be expected from any celebrity compelled to be careful about their appearances. Only once had she caught the secluded woman's eyes. Emma still remembered that they were rich honey-brown.

Regina had been staring out of the car and although her eyes had met Emma's, she had seemed to stare right through her. Emma had not been surprised. To rich, powerful people, poor orphans such as herself were often invisible.

However, there was something compelling in Regina Mills' eyes that had piqued her interest. Before she could identify it, the car had sped off. She had briefly wondered if she had witnessed a hint of resignation in the brown eyes.

That was odd. The Mayor's beautiful young daughter with filthy loads of cash and sitting in a car that definitely cost more than Emma's yearly expenses, looking out with vacant, resigned eyes - the scene had struck Emma as unusual.

But then she had put out the curiosity like a burning matchstick. Perhaps she had imagined the whole thing. Perhaps the rich girl was stoned. Perhaps Emma wanted everyone to be unhappy because she herself was. Perhaps Regina Mills was just sleepy. The list of possiblilities was endless.

_None of my business_, she had thought and moved on.

"We should get goin'. It'll be dark soon." Ruby's voice brought her back to the present.

"Yeah," Emma grunted absently before shuffling up on her feet.

They walked back in silence, following the narrow forest trail. It was getting dark but as long as Ruby was there, Emma knew she didn't need to worry. Besides, her thoughts were now occupied by another brunette whom they had just spoken about.

Emma had dismissed her intuitions that day as mere assumptions. She had thought that she had imagined the despair in those chocolate eyes - despair that was way too familiar to herself.

But just minutes ago, Ruby had hinted that her assumptions might not have been assumptions after all.

_Why do I care? _She weakly tried to pacify her raging curiosity.

She couldn't help but blurt out her next question. "How old is she?"

Ruby didn't need any further clarification regarding who 'she' was. "24," she replied quietly.

"Same as Mary Margaret," the blond observed.

"Yeah," Ruby sighed. She suddenly stopped on the trail, so abruptly that Emma almost walked into her. She turned around and placed a hand on Emma's shoulders. "Em, don't mention her to M&M, okay? They have... a bit of a history. Bad stuff. Don't bring it up."

"Okay," she agreed and when Ruby started walking again, she silently followed.

"We're here," Ruby spoke out after sometime when the highway came into view.

It was quite late, Emma realized as she noticed that the streetlights were all lit and the "Welcome to Storybrooke" sign by the side of the road glowed with a eerie greenish hue. She was definitely heading back to a storm at the house. Judith would be furious. Anyway, there was no point in brooding about it right now. What's done was done. Besides, the new spot which Ruby had shown her was worth it.

"Rubes," she started so softly that she doubted if the other girl would hear her, "thank you."

Even in the semi darkness of the highway, she could see a grin spread across the taller girl's lips. They were quiet for the next few seconds until they reached the intersection in front of the town hall.

They halted in front of the clock tower where they would split and head towards their respective destinations - Ruby to her Granny's diner and Emma to Judith's house. The older girl was still grinning. She slapped Emma's back with a force that almost made the fragile girl vibrate but also prompted a matching grin on her lips as well.

"Anytime," Ruby winked before parting ways and heading towards the diner. "See ya tomorrow!"

Emma shook her head slightly, the rare grin still adorning her lips. Storybrooke was a queer little town with its predictable close knit community and slow laid back life but it also gave Emma someone whom she considered closest to a friend in a really long time.

She looked up and took in the sight of the clock which was permanently stuck at 8:15. She had come to accept many months back that quite inexplicably, no one cared that the town clock had stopped working. It was like time was frozen in Storybrooke. She caught herself in her thoughts and shook her head incredulously before heading towards her foster home.

Maybe life in this town wasn't be as bad as she had feared.

* * *

She was wrong.

The moment she entered the dilapidated house that was her address, she realized everything was wrong.

It was only half past seven in the evening but as usual Judith was on a couch in the drawing room in her nightgown, nursing a tumbler of whiskey in her hand. From her appearance and the almost empty bottle on the coffee table, she guessed that it wasn't the woman's first drink of the evening either.

Her wrinkled emaciated face was curled up in disgust, loathing and countless other emotions Emma didn't dare to try to identify. Judith didn't even notice when she opened the front door and slipped inside.

Emma was not much of a believer but now she prayed to whatever power that might be up there so that the wasted woman on the couch wouldn't notice her.

As always, her prayers weren't answered.

The ratty floorboard creaked when she reached the base of the stairs and the dozing woman jolted awake. She took in the sight of the almost terrified girl frozen in place and in one swift motion, swooped down on her like an overgrown bat.

"Where were you, you idiot child?"

Her tone was cold and hard and Emma clamped up instinctively.

"Out."

A sharp slap stung her cheek. Emma's eyes watered in sudden pain and her ears rang.

Judith grabbed her shoulders hard and shook her violently.

"Do not take that tone with me, you stupid girl."

She brought her face so close to the orphaned girl's that their noses were almost touching. Suddenly she crinkled her nose.

"You were smoking."

It wasn't a question.

Emma couldn't stop herself as she got defensive and blurted out, "And you were drinking."

She immediately knew she had quite foolishly worsened the situation. She should not have talked back to the drunk woman who was ironically entrusted with her welfare by the state.

She yelped in pain as Judith clenched her mane of golden hair in her fist and yanked back hard. "Who were you out with? Boys? What were you doing for so long? Who were you fucking, slut?"

Emma bit down on her lip hard to stop crying out in pain. Her lean body shook like a leaf in fear and anxiety.

"Listen, you brat... I will not tolerate this kind of behaviour in my house. I give you food. I give you clothes. I give you a roof over your head. I send you to school. And you repay me with what? Whoring around?"

"No... no," Emma stuttered out in equal parts of pain and terror.

Judith opened her palm and slapped her across the face once more. Emma's oversized glasses dislodged from her nose and sat on her face at an awkward angle but she didn't dare move to adjust them.

"Try again, you ill mannered bitch!"

"No, ma'am," the terrified girl breathed out through her pain.

She brought her face close to the girl's once more and cupped her jaw in a fierce grip.

"I have not yet received the cheque from last month. If I don't get the money this month, I will kick you out."

"Yes, ma'am," she breathed out once again. She knew for a fact that Judith received money every month, that she drank with the money that was meant to be Emma's allowance but she was not stupid enough to argue with her... now or ever.

"Good. Now go to your room and think about what about what you have done." She jerked Emma by the hair once more and shoved her towards the stairs before returning to her bottle.

With shaking hands, Emma picked up the backpack that had slipped off her shoulder on to the floor and made her way upstairs as fast as her unsteady knees could carry her. She shut the door to her closet sized bedroom and threw the bag on her bed before rushing to the toilet. She knelt down over the toilet bowl and dry heaved until her abdominal muscles started cramping. When her shaking knees could take no more, she slid back and leaned against the peeled off wall.

She shivered and hugged her knees. Tears came hard and fast and flooded her eyes and down her cheeks. She removed her hazy glasses and stuck them inside her jacket pocket, almost on auto pilot. Too many unpleasant memories crowded her senses.

She didn't cry in sadness. She didn't cry in shock.

She cried in self loathing. She hated herself for being born. She hated herself for being unwanted. She hated herself for the helplessness she felt.

More than anything, she hated herself for daring to hope that she could ever be happy.

* * *

"She hit you!"

Emma was loading her bag inside her locker and was startled by the whispered exclamation over her shoulder. She whirled around and saw Ruby staring at her solemnly. How the girl managed to sneak up and startle her, Emma would never know.

She sighed. Ruby was eyeing her face, probably the angry welts that Judith's knuckles had left on her jaw. She didn't bother to lie and cover for the vile woman.

"I'm fine," she muttered instead.

"The hell you are!" Ruby's voice marginally rose and suddenly Emma was glad that it was early and the corridor was almost empty.

Ruby seemed to share her sentiment too because she glanced around, guilt suddenly etched on her face. After being satisfied that she had not attracted anyone's attention, she turned back to the abused girl. "Don't do this to yourself. You need to report the bitch."

"Nothing will happen. She works in the Mayor's office, remember?"

"As a coffee girl or something... Seriously, is that why you aren't saying anything?"

"Rubes!" Emma reached out and touched her friend's arm in an attempt to calm her down, "nothing good ever comes out of that shit. I'll be thrown into a new place, in a new town. I'm tired of moving twice a year. I'm tired of strangers... of everything. Here at least I have a few good people... people like you, Mrs. Blanchard, Belle... it could be worse."

"But..."

Emma cut out her protest, "They don't care. No body cares."

She blinked twice to make sure no tears betrayed her and none did. She was well in control of hiding her expressions after years of practice.

Ruby gently traced the red angry marks on Emma's jaw with light fingers. Affection shone bright in her eyes, as did fierce protectiveness of a sibling.

"I do care, Em."

"I know... which is why I don't wanna move away."

"Gee, lezzies!" Killian's voice rang out from other side of the corridor, ruining the tenderness of the moment.

Emma clenched her jaws in exasperation and immediately winced in pain. She shook her head to indicate that she was alright to dispel Ruby's concern about her well being.

Ruby decided to drop the matter for the time being. She turned around and faced Killian instead.

"What's the matter, pretty boy? Did you forget your bloody eyeliner today?" She spoke the last part in a mock British accent that elicited laughter from the small crowd that was gathering around them.

"None of your business, lassie," the agitated boy spat out. "I'm talking to Swan."

"I'm no lassie, pretty boy. Name is Lucas. Ruby Lucas. And you weren't talking to anyone. You were harassing my friend here. Now if you're done with your shit, shoo!"

Ruby straightened and stood tall in front of Killian Jones with her hands on her hips. She had certainly picked up and perfected Granny's intimidating posture with finesse.

"Fuck you," he sputtered before turning away.

"You wish," the girl idly smirked before deciding she had already paid enough attention to the pest.

Emma noticed none of it. She had stopped hearing everything the moment Ruby had referred to her as "friend". The first emotion that she felt was panic. She was not good in human interaction and if she had a friend, she would lose her as well. But she also couldn't deny the elation that made itself felt inside her chest. In the whole wide world, there was at least one individual who tolerated her for who she was, who hung out with her and shared her smoke and an occasional swig of beer. She had someone who thought of her as a friend in spite of her hang ups and phobia towards relationships.

Ruby watched carefully as terror and hope alternated in the clear green eyes. She ran over what she had just told Jones and winced when she remembered that she had called Emma her friend out loud. Of course she considered the young blonde her friend but she wasn't sure if the latter was ready to hear it yet.

She gently placed a hand over the silent girl's shoulder. "It's no big deal. Don't overthink it." She kept it vague on purpose. She gave Emma an out. She let her interpret what the 'it' was.

Emma cleared the lump in her throat with effort, grateful for her brunette friend's thoughtfulness.

_Her brunette friend._

She suddenly realized that as unsettling as it was, she didn't resent being hit by Judith as much as last night.

* * *

"Class, please remember to mail your assignment to my email address by tomorrow. Points you score on your assignment will be added to your final grades." Miss. Tinker Bell concluded and nodded at the end of her history class.

When Emma had heard her history teacher's name for the first time, she had laughed out loud.

What kind of parents with the surname Bell named their daughter Tinker? What kind of a name was Tinker? _Ridiculous._

But at the moment, Emma had bigger problems than to reflect on ridiculous names. She didn't have a computer at home, obviously. Her foster parent would never let her use her own laptop. Hell, she never let Emma use the land phone.

Emma had already finished her assignment. She knew education was the key to her freedom in future and she took care to make sure that she graduated from high school with enough GPA to bag a scholarship to a college.

But she had written it down in her notebook, having no access to electronic media. She did the same with her assignments in every class and often typed them out on the library computer and e-mailed it from there. However, often her teachers gave a notice for submission days in advance... unlike Miss. Bell who expected people to turn in their assignments in a day's notice.

Being not too familiar with the keyboard, Emma wasn't used to typing out letters fast enough. She looked at her twelve page long essay and sighed. She had an uphill task at hand.

She was walking out of the class when another familiar voice called out from behind, "Emma, are you alright?"

_Damn Neal._

"Yeah," she replied. She had no interest in starting a conversation but after the run in with Jones, she didn't want to piss off another classmate. She hoped her one word answers would convey the message to the overeager boy.

As always, Neal Cassidy failed to take the hint.

"So, I heard Killian was being an ass in the morning. Good thing Ruby told him off. You have quite a friend there."

Emma closed her eyes in irritation and nodded.

"Emma..." Neal started uncertainly, "Is there... is there anything going on between you and Ruby? I mean, I'll totally get it if there is. I won't judge. It's perfectly alright. You can be with whomever you want... I'm rambling, I'll stop."

"Nothing's going on," Emma replied automatically before pushing past him. She would love to lie just to get rid of him but rumors spread fast in Storybrooke High and she didn't want to spoil her only friend's chances with Belle.

Neal's face cleared and he smiled widely. "Great! Would you like to grab a coffee after school?"

Emma sighed for the umpteenth time of the day. She surely seemed to do that a lot lately. "Sorry, I can't. Got some stuff to do." _Like slogging away over the computer keyboard. _

"Oh," Neal's face fell, "some other time, maybe?"

"Maybe," Emma nodded noncommittally and waited for a few more seconds awkwardly before heading to her next class. She was vaguely aware that Neal Cassidy was following her like a lost puppy.

It was going to be a long day.


End file.
